[Intro: Crooked I]
Hip-hop weekly reloaded hehe…
This is the last motherfuckin weekly
C.O.B. All-Stars in the motherfuckin building…
Too many motherfuckin Indians in running around in this weekly series shit…
And Im the god damn chief… (HOLLA AT EM! Hahaha)
Heheheh - I got Sauce da Boss in this motherfucka, Coniyac da X.O. and the Horseshoe GANG, man
(Blaow…Buhp-buhp-buhp)
The inner circle nigga…
Lets take it to the hood…
[Verse 1: Crooked I]
This is for my paralyzed homie, he the realest nigga made
Fron seat in the car, he catch any nigga fade
He goin up top - BINK - leave you in a daze
You can tell he an old G by the grays in his braids
He tell me Crooked take us all to the T-O-P
I tell em Ssut-Ssut C-O-B!
[Verse 2: Horseshoe G.A.N.G.]
[Julius Luciano]
My drug is money, yeah, I get high off every scent
So high off every green, by that I mean a monetary lift
[Kenny Siegel]
Im all about by giff but I’ll Brratt-pull the trigga
Yall should stay out the wood like you flat-footed nigga
[Demetrius Capone]
Fast with the clicka nigga, tagtoe ya mother
[Dice Dinero]
My guns’ll wet pussies, wood handle, no rubbers
[Kenny Siegel]
My clan is so gutta
[Julius Luciano]
Me and my niggas walkin through the streets like the Beatles on that Abbey Road cover
[Demetrius Capone]
No father figure, look how the streets turned me
I come from cement, not semen, the streets birthed me
[Dice Dinero]
I overpaid my dues, this game should reimburse me
Me and my niggas not just hungry, we thirsty
[Demetrius Capone]
Mask and a full clip, back on that bullshit
Price, toupee, cash on a fool’s wig
[Dice Dinero]
When the nights pitch black and the moon’s lit
Might get ya wife kidnapped on that goon shit
[Hook: Kenny Siegel + Julius Luciano]
So why would you fuck wit us
Young niggas plus gun dillas, young sinnas
Fast living on the run til the one’s get us
But we won't slip up til we touch figgas, killa, killa
[Dice Dinero]
Fuck the world - tatt it on my face!
[Kenny Siegel]
No escape from the animals, bananas going ape
[Julius Luciano]
Shots hot as Navada from the gat’ll splatta ya cantelope
[Dice Dinero + Kenny Siegel]
Blat the calicoe
[Demetrius Capone]
Ima California quake!
[Crooked I]
9.0 on the Richter Scale, plus we killin any snitch you tell
(Coniyac get em…)
[Verse 3: Coniyac da X.O.]
Im cold enuff to freeze llama
Chill a sauna, god Ma-the-Mrs-Block-Odonna
Forever more beast master, from competitor
Above all forever soar, arsenal never flawed
Black hawks down, on them niggas with them skirts on
Through the scope my murks on (to get in em)
On some eat money shit, change no vegan
If beef eatin, Im collectin both for the keepin
[Verse 4: Crooked I]
Internet trippin cause this my last weekly
Now you gotta catch me in Long Beach, Im eastly
And my cousin Sauce from Watts, so believe me
This Eric Wright shit, C-O-B easy
[Verse 5: Sauce da Boss]
Pound sign Smokethatdope, that’s what they call me
Saucey, aka, Cob Marley
Nickel plated pistol with that C-O-B thermal
I do it major like Im promotin a fuckin colonel
The game I lay down, kick stand couldn’t stand it
Bitches see me and they panties get straight handed
Sauce stay fly and I ain't planning on landin
I stand out, cuz without a doubt Im outstanding
[Verse 6: Crooked I]
Psycho, think I need some Prozac yo
Sauce tell this bitch something (smoke that do!)…
Baby smoke that do, til choke dat throat
Like a dick on your tonsils, no damn joke
I remember being on the corner, hanging like a throwback jersey on a coat rack low
We was so damn broke, til kush gave a broham hope
Strong as weed, that’ll make an old man croak
Now coke ain't the program no
We slanging that green and I quote “Smoke that ‘do”
Yeah, get that product and push
We Obama kush, we used to call it Bush
Break it down now...
Im complex as Lex Luther, Kobe-esque
Im the best shooter, the executer dude with fresh ruger
My projects is Fred Kreuger, my nightmares press through the
Music, I give the vision of death to ya
Step to ya, the put the lead through ya
Nothin can rescue ya from the possessed David Caress Junior
Suicide, picture a beautiful funeral coffin with you inside
Gucci tied, the mortician beautified the fact you was brutalized
In the blink of a human eye, you was euthanized – BLAOW
C.O.B. ain't playin over there
Sound like Death Row when Dre was over there
With the Makaveli poster, layin on the chair
Yeah, real niggas standin on they square
No I in team, but there’s a U in US
Big difference between U and US – NIGGA
[Outro: Crooked I]
Im outta here, deuces in the air (Peace…Deuces!)
Im outta here, deuces in the air (We outta nigga…we ain't fuckin with this no more!)
Im outta here, deuces in the air (Too many swagger jackers! Hahaha)
Im outta here, deuces in the air (Watch what we do next!)
Yeah, we don’t follow trends nigga, we set trends
XXL, Source Magazine, BET and MTV
Yall niggas better give respect and salute C.O.B
Yo…and to all our fans…
#OKBYE
